Bad Romance
by A. LaRosa
Summary: Panty/Brief, growing one-shot collection. These that lie within are the sexual misadventures of a young Briefers Rock and Anarchy Panty. Title has been changed to fit a wider rage of stories. Review!
1. No Talking

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt_. I don't think I would even want to own it if I had the chance.

**Author's Note**: This takes place in the time period those thirty seconds after the finale allow and before the troll ending. So, you know, where some sort of normalcy and downtime could occur.

This was also written for my schmoop_bingo card (on LJ) under the prompt of an _erotic massage._

Enjoy! Let me know what you think._  
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_**No Talking**_

_December 27, 2010_

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It took much convincing, but he finally managed to get Panty up and into her bedroom. Brief had done much planning and a ton of reading; he wanted to show his appreciation for his favorite angel.

She was so speechless at the amount of lit candles there were in her room that she forgot to flick the light switch on; they were definitely a fire hazard, those candles, but a screaming romantic gesture.

Incense was burning—when did she own incense?—and there were these soft sounds coming from the corner, something like water running or birds chirping or some nonsense, but it sounded alright. It reminded her of something vague that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Her sheets were different, too. Satin? Silk?

"What is this?" Panty asked, half-confused and half-pleased that he would put this amount of effort in whatever he was planning for her. "What are you getting at, Brief? I'd fuck a guy for much less."

"No, no. I-I just want you to know that I, uh…" Brief trailed off, clearing his throat. He was grateful for the darkness of the room dimming his red face to more of a muted pink flush. "I think you deserve more than you get, more than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm fucking awesome, Brief, I don't know what you're talking about," she responded, her hands on her hips. She was leaning back, looking down at him in a haughty gesture. The moon added an extra flair to the ambiance of the room, making her look more like a stereotypical angel than the angel she was.

Brief shook his head, his bangs swaying to-and-fro. "That's not what I mean, Panty. I mean… that you need to be treasured. Appreciated."

"Treasured?" she asked, skepticism deeply ingrained in her tone. "What kind of bullshit is that?"

He shut the door behind them finally, taking off his backpack and dropping it on a nearby chair. Heaving a great sigh, he pushed his hair out of his eyes, hoping she would take his word seriously. "You don't think that sex should be experienced by two people in love? That a woman should feel not only wanted, but needed, by the person she's with?"

She scoffed, turning away. "Of course not!"

"I think differently."

"You would, Geek Boy," she responded, crossing her arms underneath her chest as she huffed a great breath that blew her bangs up and away from her face. Shifting weight from one foot to the other, she regarded him with a wary look, his words actually sinking in. "Alright. What is it that you're going to show me?"

"Take off your clothes," he said, trying to stare with a level, determined composure. Inside, his heart was rattling in his chest and his nerves were on fire. He didn't know if this was going to work, but he was going to try. They had done this before, but without much time to savor the experience. He wanted to right that wrong.

"Barking orders, eh?" she said, kicking off her high heels. Without much effort—since she did this multiple times a day—she slid the straps of her red dress down her shoulders before tugging the dress completely down to land in a pool of satin fabric at her feet. Kicking it away, she unhooked her bra, aiming for Brief's head when she flung it; he halfheartedly dodged. Finally, her panties were slingshotted towards her dresser, or in that general area.

Standing proud in all her glory, she grinned at Brief. "Now what?"

He tried not to let her nakedness get to him. His dick was not getting the message. "Get on the bed. Face down."

Panty noticed, but didn't comment on it. "A little back door, eh, Brief? Didn't know you had it in you."

"Another thing: no more talking, from here on out," he replied, taking off his jacket. Tossing his headphones over to his bag, he slid out of his shoes. "Nothing."

"What—"

"Nothing," he repeated.

She huffed, frowning like a spoiled brat as she stomped over to her bed. Despite her displeasure at being told _not_ to do something, she still complied.

Ever since they had made it back in, more or less, one piece, he hadn't been able to shake her, or even the idea of her. What had started out as a crush escalated into something of scary proportions, moving from infatuation to love. Brief knew that she would eat his heart, leaving him to stand motionless while she gallivanted off with any guy with a pulse. Brief knew that he was risking a hell of a lot by being here, right now, and supporting her. But he knew that he had to try, at least once, to get through to her. She had a heart. Panty was an angel for a reason. He was going to try and find his way through the thicket of one-night stands to her heart; however, he didn't want to tame her wild nature. That would be an insult to her very character.

As she squirmed and wiggled to get herself into place, just as he requested, he swallowed thickly. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

She was excited. Not sexually—at least, not yet—but she was thrilled that he was taking a more active interest in her. He normally stammered and blushed around her to an annoying extent; but to have her in such a vulnerable position with no interruptions? It was thrilling. Plus, it didn't hurt that his dick was huge.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his fingers threading themselves in her long hair, a lovely distraction. In slow circles, his fingers made her skin tingle, relaxation coming over her in a calm wave. No one ever took the time to play with her hair, much less massage her scalp.

She let out a low hum of approval.

Smiling at his success, Brief continued, moving from one area to the next with his repetitive, rhythmic actions. With a sweep of her hair, he put it in a messy bun to get it off her back. When he heard no arguments, only a content sigh, he continued, only after fetching the lotion from his bag.

He cleared his throat, lotion now in hand. "This is going to be a bit cold," he murmured as he squirted a good amount into his palm and rubbed his hands together.

She almost leaped off of the bed at the contact of the cool lotion on her skin. Her visible flinch forced a soft apology from him, but he persisted. Soon the warmth of his hands diminished the cold.

"Is this the lotion you jerk off with?"

"Not a word. And no, it's new. The smell… reminded me of you."

Panty smiled, even if he couldn't see it.

He moved down her back, working out the tension in her shoulders, her upper back, and the slope down to the small of her back. When he began kneading and caressing her ass, she let of a soft moan. Willing himself to continue, he moved past the area, down her thighs—he would get back to those later—along her calves, to her feet. After giving a substantial amount of time to each section of her body, and grateful that she was a good test subject, Brief cleared his throat again to get her attention.

"Turn over."

"Aren't massages only facing down? I let you get away without using a towel, Geek Boy," she said, craning her neck to see him.

"This isn't your average massage, Panty," he replied.

"Oh. _Ooh._" Panty grinned lecherously at him as she flipped over, spreading her legs unabashedly. "Well, why didn't you say so?"

Trying not to stare directly at her vagina, where his eyes were obviously being pulled towards, he reached over to close her legs with a roll of his eyes. "Not yet."

She pouted, dropping her head back onto the pillow. "Then, what?"

When he didn't respond, she figured he was back on his "no talking" rule. She sighed again, but couldn't help the way her heart rate picked up when he reached his lotion-covered hands out and dragged them down her arms. He took his time with her arms and hands, treating each finger with particular interest. Her eyes wanted to flutter shut, but she couldn't help but watch the sexy determination he had on his face while going about his task.

He trailed his hands up to her collarbone before finally dropping to her breasts. Her eyes were about to doze shut from the sheer relaxation, the music and the smells overpowering her, but they snapped back open when he began to knead and massage her breasts at a languid pace.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Brief tried with all of his might to not make eye contact with her. If he did, he would be done for, pulled in by those eyes of hers that could make him do anything she wanted. Now, he wasn't going to let her have her way. Not yet.

He rolled his thumbs around her nipples, using both hands simultaneously as he moved from the inside to just underneath her arms. Every noise of appreciation was noted, catalogued away for future use, as he touched her.

As much as he wanted to play with her breasts forever, he had a bigger goal to accomplish. Working his skillful hands away from her breasts, down her stomach, and to her thighs, he made his intentions evident through the way that he was purposefully avoiding the area she craved his touch in the most. Panty whined, and with each noise, his erection became more and more painful to ignore.

"Need help, Brief?" she grinned, licking her lips as she eyed his bulge. He swatted away her approaching hand.

"This isn't about me, Panty," he reasoned, no matter how much he ached. This was about her. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh.

Now ready—he thought—to take on Panty's pride and joy, he knelt in between her legs, spreading them wide. He almost had a heart attack at how wet she was already, bared to him.

"I get what you're trying to do, Brief," she said, her voice thick with lust. The smell of the lotion mixed with the incense was driving her wild. "Let's just skip the formalities of foreplay and get right to the good stuff. I'm ready."

"No," he responded, massaging her with a little more pressure than necessary in an attempt to reel her back in. He inched his hands from her hips, to her pubic mound. Brief ran his hands up and down her thighs, to get rid of excess lotion, before diving in.

Trailing a finger down her slit, she moaned in response. "We're going to do this my way."

"Yes," she replied, trying to move against his hand, to feel more than she was already feeling—which was saying something.

"Stay still."

Panty groaned at the torture, finding this a new experience in her long line of affairs. She normally wouldn't have put up with someone so aggravating for this long. Was there more that she wasn't seeing?

He spread her open even wider, massaging every inch of rosy flesh underneath his fingertips. She damn right mewled when he slid a long finger into her, his palm facing upwards. He didn't pump his finger in and out, or anything of the sort; he massaged her inside walls, touching and caressing as far as his fingers would allow. Once she relaxed into his touch even more, he added another finger, repeating the process. Her noises, her moans, were torture; and, knowing he was the one that was drawing this sounds out of her was even worse.

It was all going to his head, the one he needed to keep under control. Dammit.

When he moved to her clit, he said, "Take deep breaths. If you think you're close to coming, tell me." He didn't know if that direction was more to Panty or himself.

His fingers, covered in her juices, found her clitoris in no time at all and began to rub in slow, precise movements. Her hips bucked against his hand a few times, and she learned that each time she would do that, he would back off and wait for her to calm down.

When he was finished, and had stated so, she responded, "I feel like jelly. That was so fucking great, Brief."

He smiled, wiping his hand on the sheets. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Oh no," she said as she sat up, grinning like a lech when his eyes fell to her swaying bosom. "I loved it."

"Y-Yeah?"

Her hands were at his belt in a flash. "I'm going to show you how much. I'm horny as hell now and you're no help, except for making me relaxed. Needless to say, pervy boy, it's a weird combination." After she had pulled off his belt and tossed it to the side, she added with a predatory, evil grin, "Oh, and no talking, either. We're doing this _my way_, now."


	2. Fuck, It's Love

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt_. I don't think I would even want to own it if I had the chance.

**Author's Note**: This takes place in the time period those thirty seconds after the finale allow and before the troll ending. So, you know, where some sort of normalcy and downtime could occur.

This was also written for my schmoop_bingo card (on LJ).

I wasn't going to post this, but I've been getting a lot of positive feedback regarding the first chapter/story. This isn't necessarily a continuation, but just something sweet. This is posted on my LiveJouranl, but I thought I would double up and post it here. Excuse this if you've already read it. If you haven't… by all means, enjoy! FYI, I plan on writing more and am in talks of possibly doing a Panty/Brief fan comic/doujinshi. I'll let you know more as the idea develops!

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_**Fuck, It's Love**_

_Written December 30, 2010_

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"Don't miss me too much, alright?" Panty said, grinning when his hand came around to grasp at her ass. This bathing suit was a goldmine: red, tight, and stringy. She kissed Brief hard on the mouth, cupping his dick through his trunks. When she got him worked up, she pulled away with a cheeky grin.

Brief cleared his throat and lamely replied, "B-B-Bye," to her retreating figure. Damn.

By the time his nose stopped bleeding, the Anarchy sisters were already in the water. He had seen her naked—loads of times, even before they started dating—but that bathing suit always managed to give him one huge erection after another.

The beach was loaded. It had been the first genuinely nice, carefree day in months. It was hot out, no rain, and no ghosts. Naturally, they were at the beach. Panty and Stocking had loaded up See-Through and somehow managed to grab Brief along the way. No Chuck, no Garterbelt—no scams, ghosts, or shit monsters (they deserved their own category, even if they were ghosts).

Stocking rolled her eyes, jerking a thumb in Brief's direction. "Are you kidding me with this one? You? Monogamous? He'd trail you like a lost puppy even if you didn't designate your pussy to him. Are you sure you're not doing this because he's terminally ill or something?"

"What? It's kind of cute," Panty responded, splashing her sister. "Besides, I can have sex whenever I want it." She went underwater to get her hair wet. Coming back up, she gasped for air, flipping her hair back.

"That's different than before… how?" Stocking replied, genuinely curious. She shifted her sunglasses, peering down the bridge of her nose to stare at Panty. Her blue and white inner tube swayed with the waves while she rested on it.

"I don't know, it feels kind of different. Plus, he's huge."

Stocking shrugged. "I know. I've seen."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What do you think?"

"Not bad."

Panty grinned, nudging the inner tube Stocking was holding on to. "You're jealous."

"So what if I am? I have to go slut it out by myself at the clubs, and you're all cuddly with this moron."

"That's how it's different! He wants to stick around in the morning. Normally these dicks want to fuck and leave, which doesn't bother me but—"

"It's called love, you stupid bitch," Stocking interrupted.

"You think so?" Panty asked, genuinely coming to this conclusion for the first time.

"See that group of guys over there?" Stocking asked, pointing to a group of bodybuilding types that were playing volleyball; Panty nodded, taking in the sight of tight speedos and bronzed bodies. "Now look back at Geek Boy." Her redheaded boyfriend was sitting in the sand, making some kind of castle. He looked like a child, but they didn't know that he was building a castle in order to block his erection from the children playing near by. Panty looked between the two and shrugged. Stocking rolled her eyes, then gave her sister an expectant look. "That's love. You spent more time looking at Brief."

"Just cause I see them doesn't mean that I'm going to go fuck every single oh, Jesus Christ, it's love."

"I rest my case."


	3. Russian Roulette

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt_. I don't think I would even want to own it if I had the chance.

**Author's Note**: This takes place in the time period those thirty seconds after the finale allow and before the troll ending. So, you know, where some sort of normalcy and downtime could occur.

I hope you enjoy this one, and I'm sure you can guess the song it's based off of. Guns, sexual prowess, gambling… how can I not think of Panty?

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_**Russian Roulette**_

_January 28, 2011_

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Her… circumstances definitely made a guy _like him_ think twice—some jumped in without thinking—but he thought about those circumstances almost constantly, tortured himself for hours with complications and what-if scenarios.

Here she was, standing in all her glory, with no shame or embarrassment, and he… quivering like a virgin on prom night.

They were together, had been for a while, but she played the game a little more dangerously than he ever had in his lifetime. He was waiting for the shot that would kill him, leave him in bits and pieces of gore splattered on every surface. Brief expected her to grin and move on if the situation arose; usually, he attempted to convince himself that Panty wasn't that cruel, but he wouldn't hold his breath. Her being faithful, to his knowledge, was the only golden record she held to a miraculous degree. Trust was an issue on both sides.

Her fidelity was probably aided along with the simple fact that he was a growing boy; and, in result, constantly horny. With a bombshell girlfriend—_gasp, girlfriend_—to suck his dick at any moment, before he even opened his mouth to suggest it, he was on cloud nine.

She hadn't called him "Geek Boy" in a long time.

Brief wondered what she was getting out this. Blind devotion? Adoration? Limitless sex? Who _wouldn't_ want those things? But, really, what did she need from him so badly that she kept coming back for more? Even Stocking had remarked that it had been so long since she had brought a random jock or playboy around for an easy lay.

Brief should have been proud, but he was just waiting for the wire to snap. He was a good friend of Murphy and that law of his that he liked to throw around; all this good fortune would turn on him eventually and leave him out in the cold. He couldn't hope for this to be a "forever" thing, no matter how much… he caught himself already hoping.

Damn.

With a flick of her wrist, dexterous fingers played a beautiful melody against his skin in a way he could never duplicate with his own hand. "Close your eyes," she whispered, her free hand walking up his chest. "Feel me."

He followed her instruction, just as he always did. Brief wasn't stupid, he wouldn't dare defy her—he didn't want to, actually, and that slightly worried him. Her hands, tongue, and mouth wrapped around his dick evaporated those worries, however.

"I play to win, Brief. You should, too," she murmured, smirking wickedly as she pinched his nipple. He made a small noise, one that she rather enjoyed—by the look on her face.

He wondered if he could handle this perverted game of Russian roulette much longer.

She was still playing this game of chance; _she never lost_, never got hurt, never even dreamed of losing, no matter who she was with. Losing was always on his mind. Forfeiting this dream would shatter him. Maybe, say, once during the whole debacle that brought them to this point, she could have doubted herself, but… could he survive with her?

Could he stay alive?

Click.

… click.


End file.
